I don't belong here,
Got to get away;
Poet, close your eyes:

The fire at the head of a verse
Takes me where verbs and stars
Collide,
(And the girl whose ancient name
Is fire)
Black rose consoler of sorrows,
My worries ride the sky today,
      Brilliant nocturnal fool
      I can see all the words escape
      A collision with atmosphere,
Flocked with hope
It gathers steam towards
The kiss of the quarter moon;
Your name is HOPE.
   I nail my dreams to sky black
   Bridging the gaps in the abyss,
   I catch a ride with the tail
    Of a comet's tears
   And endure its loneliness like
   A broth of nourishing sacrifice:

     "Take my hand dear poet,
    Your words are embers
     On a midsummer harvest"
    And the world froze beneath
     It's cylindrical tail
      As the wheel of days did not
     Revolve;

I became a solar sorrow,
My dreams burst into sunflowers
In a flame of words
Bursting itself from my soul,
Each night as the world
Becomes too much,
I escape and the poem takes
Me away.

Just me and him...
Having a conversation in the quiet of night.
Just me and him...
Baring honesty with no restrictions, no fright.

I tell him,
"Why must it always rain on me?"
I confide in him,
"Why do I feel what others don't see?"

Momentary silence...

And then he says,
"It doesn't always rain...
Sometimes you are sheltered.
You feel too much.
Over things that shouldn't have mattered."

Pause...

I am a child, fighting my case.
"If I don't, who then will choose to care?
Who then will toil for days to come?
I'm exhausted now...
And it's not fair."

He chides me in an instant.
"It was your choice to take on this role.
It was a decision made freely.
If you're looking a direction in which to point,
point to a mirror and you'll see the reason why it's taking a toll."

I gasp in faux disbelief
for I know it is true.
I've known all along
that it's me, not you.

I hesitate...
And then I reply...

*"Oh shut up!"

Just me and him...
Having a conversation in the quiet of night.
Just me and him...
Baring honesty with no restrictions, no fright.

I tell him,
"Why must it always rain on me?"
I confide in him,
"Why do I feel what others don't see?"

Momentary silence...

And then he says,
"It doesn't always rain...
Sometimes you are sheltered.
You feel too much.
Over things that shouldn't have mattered."

Pause...

I am a child, fighting my case.
"If I don't, who then will choose to care?
Who then will toil for days to come?
I'm exhausted now...
And it's not fair."

He chides me in an instant.
"It was your choice to take on this role.
It was a decision made freely.
If you're looking a direction in which to point,
point to a mirror and you'll see the reason why it's taking a toll."

I gasp in faux disbelief
for I know it is true.
I've known all along
that it's me, not you.

I hesitate...
And then I reply...

*"Oh shut up!"

In this fast-paced world
where I was burning out,
you dimmed all the lights
just so I could see
I could still shine bright.

I used to follow butterflies
In days of green and blue
I’d totter in their lazy wake
As if for nothing better's sake
And listen to the cricket’s quake
To find out what they knew

I used to follow butterflies
Along their merry way
Their cooling wings were flittered dry
The colours seemed to amplify
I held my breath to see if I
Could make out what they say

I used to follow butterflies
Through nooks of tepid shade
To dance upon a patch of light
Upon a bloom, they paused their flight
To satisfy their appetite
Before the day should fade

I used to follow butterflies
So carefree as they flew
And every day I’d wish that I
Could follow them about the sky
I used to follow butterflies
And often, I still do

**

It's hot and hell is here,
The labyrinth of the city sets
The stage for stray kids getting lost,
Impoverished and too young to ***.
The street lights shed a new dark
When the boy needs shoes
To compete in friendship status,
A gun to another kid
With shiny news who just learned
The advantage of fear,
How can he afford a gun?
No phone for the hungry
Unless hungered for enough
To steal a call and surround
The angst of acceptance for social
Well-being,
When lost crows run to shadows,
A flightlessness casts itself
On the summertime kid
Awaiting his own arrival.